Rejoining the Ranks
by leafs nation
Summary: Karliah has been living alone for twenty-five years, but a few months after Mercer is killed and the Thieves Guild regains its position in Skyrim, she's thrust back into society. Will she be able to find a home within this ragtag bunch of thieves once again?
1. Darkness

Darkness. That's what I had become accustomed to for Gods knew how long now. It surrounded me, kept me hidden and alone, and I'd gotten so used to it that I didn't really know any different.

But don't mistake the darkness for evil. Oh no, on the contrary, the darkness kept me hidden from the dangers of this world. I could use the dark to my advantage, picking pockets, pulling off heists and even hiding in plain sight. Years of thieving experience helped with regards to my abilities as well, but you get my point.

I sat on my bed in Nightingale Hall, tossing a coin purse up into the air and catching it as it fell. Another successful robbery attempt, although this one was a bit more challenging than I would've liked. I hadn't really taken into account that there were four guards waiting outside of Jarl Balgruff's living quarters, armed to the teeth with Imperial bows and steel swords. A small dosage of paralysis potion in one of the guard's pockets had him down for a good five seconds, which caused the other guards to come over to him to help, and gave me my chance to get in and out. I personally didn't have anything against the Jarl (in fact, I actually preferred him over most of the other Jarls), but client's a client.

The client's offer read as follows:

_To whom it may concern,_

_A close friend of mine has fallen on hard times, and could really use some valuable jewels to help his family start up again. I don't have any money myself to give him, so I've chosen to go to the experts. Word is that the Thieves Guild has a foothold in every hold in Skyrim once again. I hope that's indeed true._

_I don't have enough money to pay for such a heist, but I think that you'll find a year's supply of ebony arrows more than a fair price. As a bonus, I'd be willing to give the Thieves Guild a discount on my goods. Just drop by The Fletcher over in Solitude and let me know. _

_I hope I can count on you to do this._

_Sincerely,_

_An interested client_

I wasn't too surprised when this showed up in the Hall a few days ago. After all, archery is a skill that I've perfected for years, and a year's worth of ebony arrows was a big incentive for me. I'd been running low on them lately, anyway.

I liked these kinds of offers. Stealing something for a greedy, rich client never felt like much of an accomplishment, especially if they have too much money to begin with. Stealing items for people who weren't as fortunate financially as others came with a feeling of pride, as if my petty larceny was actually doing a public service. I'm almost certain that if Nocturnal had a heart (although sometimes I think she might) that she'd smile on this sort of thing.

Anyways, it had been almost four months since Mercer's death and the christening of the new guildmaster, and things had been looking up. Brynjolf managed a lot of the daily operations while the guildmaster was away (begrudgingly so on his behalf), as he went off to fight dragons and whatnot. I had no idea our little wood elf friend was the Dragonborn of Nordic legend! When I first heard the bellowing through the halls of the Twilight Sepulchre as I arrived, I couldn't believe such a power had come from such a small figure.

I had just finished writing a letter to the Dovahkin, asking if I could tag along as a fellow Nightingale on some of his adventures, but I had yet to receive any word. To be fair, it would be a bitch for the courier to try and find him, since he moved around so much and was never really in the same spot for more than 24 hours, but still.

As I caught the falling coin purse once again, I contemplated on everything that had happened recently. My twenty-five year exile had finally been uplifted, and I had re-established my position within the Nightingale trinity. My insides turned to melted sweet rolls when I saw Gallus for the first time in so long, but my heart immediately shattered as I realized he had to retire to the Evergloam. Don't get me wrong, I was overjoyed that he was able to rest there, as it's the greatest honour a Nightingale can receive for their service. But I longed to hold him again, to feel his warmth up against me and to tell him everything that I needed to. I guess that I'd just have to wait a little bit longer.

I had decided immediately after the guildmaster ceremony that I would make my home in Nightingale Hall. It just felt weird standing back in the Cistern. Everything was too foreign, and most of the faces I used to see every day were long gone. Delvin I remembered, but I think that whatever connection we used to have was severed off when Mercer lied to the guild about me all those years ago. It could be repaired, but it would be a long time coming.

Brynjolf… Shadows preserve us, I had all but forgotten about him by the time I returned. He couldn't have been five years old when I first met him, as Gallus, Mercer and I agreed to watch over him. By the time I was allowed back within their ranks, Brynjolf had become a man, and I could barely recognize the small little redhead that I used to sing to in order for him to sleep. Honestly, I don't even blame him for not trusting me at first. Gods, I probably would've reacted the same way. You're told all your life that this person is a murderer and a traitor to the guild, and then you're suddenly smacked in the face as it turns out she's not? Sheograth must've been having a field day with that one.

Speaking of Brynjolf…

"Lass?" he called out into the darkness, his voice bouncing off the cave walls. I could tell he hadn't set foot in here in quite a while; by the way he was still looking in awe and surprise.

"Still think they're just a fairy tale, Bryn?" I asked with a smirk, knowing full well that he was a Nightingale agent. After all, I was the one who inducted him in the first place!

Brynjolf scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, clearly not wanting to admit that he was still suspicious about serving under a Daedric prince. I guess me being a Dunmer just made me used to the idea.

"I think I'm getting passed that," he started, "it's just hard for it all to sink in. I mean, when's the last time we've actually had to use our Nightingale armour?"

It was true. I hadn't put the slick armour on since the guildmaster christening, even though I told the Dovahkin that he'd be able to. I guess it was just an instinct of mine – I was just so used to secrecy, and being a Nightingale gave me a sort of pride that I had no intention of losing again.

"Yes, well, certain occasions call for it more than others, I suppose."

Brynjolf nodded his head and sat down at the table beside me. Judging by the dark circles underneath his eyes, I guessed that he hadn't had much sleep lately. My suspicions were confirmed when he let out a big yawn that he tried to stifle away, but there was no getting past me.

"You're exhausted, Bryn," I stated as I handed him a piece of bread, "what's troubling you?"

"Your damn guildmaster, for starters," he explained, and at my quizzical look, he sighed and poked away at the loaf. "I swear, if I had known about this Dragonborn business ahead of time, I would've handed the job off to you. He's got so many different responsibilities that it's leaving me with tons of responsibilities, if that makes any sense."

I nodded and leaned back in the chair slightly. The one bad thing about the guild being back on its feet was that Brynjolf ended up with stacks upon stacks of paperwork, not to mention having to deal with a lot of the important contacts face to face, like Maven Black-Briar. I hated the man, but I could understand now why Mercer was so grouchy all the time.

"So, is there any particular reason you're here, friend? It's not that I don't enjoy visits from time to time, but it's just a bit odd that you wandered in here," I explained swirling the contents of my mug around to try and give it a better taste. Was Black-Briar Mead ever disgusting!

Brynjolf rested his head in his hand and leaned his elbow on the table, completely drained. Whatever he was going to say was important to him, for he would've definitely been passed out by now.

"I think you should come stay with us in the Cistern," he began, but as I was about to protest he went on saying, "I know what you're thinking, but things would be a lot easier for you if you came. We're not so much different than what you used to be involved in, except some of us are a bit crazier than you might expect, and one of them's got the soul of a dragon…"

I chuckled slightly as he spoke, but I still wasn't fully convinced. Maybe it was my seclusion all that time, but I just couldn't bear the thought of having a family and losing it all in one fell swoop again.

"What makes you so sure they'd be alright with that? I don't exactly have the best reputation, you know," I reasoned, to which Brynjolf gave a small frown.

"Whatever doubts the guild had about you died with Mercer Frey, lass. Ha, even Vex says she'd like to see you, and she doesn't say that about anybody!"

I don't know what it was about this man, but he had a knack for speaking. _'Maybe he's wearing the real Amulet of Articulation…' _I thought with a smirk.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Bryn. I really do. It's just that I'm not sure I'm completely ready for that yet. I'll let you know if I change my mind though, okay?"

The red-bearded Nord sleepily nodded his head, too tired to even argue. Nocturnal's mercy, he looked like hammered shit! Unfortunately there were no potions for sleep depravity that I could give to him, so I wrapped his arm around my shoulders in an effort to bring him back to the Cistern.

And by Azura, was it ever an effort! Brynjolf felt like a dead weight on my shoulders, him being much larger than myself. We stumbled out of the Hall and into the wilderness, heading back through the gates of Riften. Surprisingly, neither of the guards gave us any trouble or even a passing glance, and I say surprisingly because I stole about 200 septims from his pocket just last week. Gotta love having friends in high places, I guess.

By the time I reached the cemetery in the back, Brynjolf had fallen asleep in my arms, just like he used to. Only this time, he was a fully-grown, 210 pound man who snored like a frost troll.

Suddenly, I felt the shadows quiver, and a small figure leapt over the wall and landed gracefully in front of us. He bowed in an elven gesture, but I couldn't return it because Brynjolf would've been lying face first in the dirt.

"Evening, Karliah," the guildmaster welcomed, "is the big fella passed out drunk again?"

"No, Balithus," I answered, shifting him upright on my shoulder, with the Dovahkin helping carry the load. "He's been up to the ears in guild work, which really you should be doing, I might add. Where have you been, guildmaster?"

"Please don't call me that," he replied sharply, as if not really liking the title. "If anything, you should be in this position, not me. You've been at this game far longer than I, and you're a heck of a lot better at thieving than I am. Secondly, I've been helping General Tullius with the war effort all week."

"Blasted Stormcloaks," I spat, the name leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Ulfric hated the Dunmer almost as much as the Thalmor, and he was overtly racist to basically every race that wasn't a Nord. I wasn't too fond of this Tullius guy either, but I trusted Balithus' judgement, so I let it slide. Besides, robbing the Stormcloaks was way more fun than messing with town guards all day.

Balithus nodded, but through the darkness I could see he was frowning about something. "What troubles you, friend? You can tell me."

"It's my oath with Nocturnal," he explained, "I feel as though I'm not doing my part of the deal."

Well, that was unexpected. Nothing about having to go kill dragons, battle demons or listen to Jarls ramble on about their city's problems all day. "What makes you say that? You've returned the Skeleton Key and restored the Ebonmere. What about any of that isn't fulfilling your oath?"

He studied my face for a moment, the same way Gallus used to. It was a bit unnerving actually, how similar in personality the two of them really were. Whoever courted the Dragonborn would be a lucky person indeed, just as I was blessed to love Gallus all those years ago.

Balithus pushed the button to the secret entrance and sighed as it slid open. Honestly, I had no idea how all of Riften could remain asleep with the sound of the stone tombstone scraping against the rock. "I've neglected her gifts, going instead with the inner powers of Akatosh and the Thu'um. And if the Sepulchre is ever in danger, how am I supposed to come defend it if I'm all the way across Skyrim constantly? And the guild…"

He clenched his fist as he opened the sewer door, revealing a long ladder that lead down to the Cistern. "I've neglected my family. This guild is literally the only place in Oblivion that I'd want to spend the rest of my life in. And yet, I'm off doing the dirty work of some punk-ass general who's too cautious to lead his men himself."

I only really had an answer for the first of his questions. "You are your own person, guildm- I mean, Balithus. Whether or not you choose to use the gifts is irrelevant, and not part of your oath. Nocturnal recognizes what you've done, and if she was truly displeased with you, then you would know. She's not completely unreasonable, you know."

Balithus wasn't so sure about that. "How do you know?" he asked, climbing down into the Cistern and opening his arms out wide to try and catch Brynjolf. "She's a Daedric prince, for crying out loud!"

I laughed at that. That's exactly what I had thought when my Nightingale status had been revoked, and I knew that other Daedric princes weren't nearly as understanding as the Mistress of Shadow. But Nocturnal forgave me after my failure to protect the Key, and gave me another chance to get revenge.

"Nobody can really understand her," I explained, trying not to break my back as I lifted Brynjolf up, "but we've witnessed firsthand her capacity for compassion. It just might not seem like that all the time. Like I said, don't take it to heart…"

"It's her way," Balithus and I laughed, trying desperately to bring the large man safely to the ground. As I prepared to drop him slowly down to Balithus, he asked me, "So, are you coming back or not?"

I tensed up and replied, "Not you too! Look, I already told Brynjolf…"

_BANG!_

I had to stifle my giggle fit with my hand, but it ended up coming out anyway. I couldn't help it though! Brynjolf was now lying on top of a mangled Balithus at the bottom of the ladder, still sleeping soundly as though nothing had happened. Azura's mercy, was he ever zoned out!

"By the Nine, Karliah, good toss! I think you're the only one who's got the balls to squish our guildmaster!" Delvin called up to me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I howled with laughter all the way back to Nightingale Hall, using the Agent of Stealth ability to become invisible. Hey, I wanted to use it at least once in a while.

As I took off my armour and slid into my bed, I thought about that crazy band of misfits back in the Cistern, and thought that maybe rejoining the guild wasn't such a bad idea after all.

_Hope you like it so far! More to come! _


	2. Remembering

"_I know what you're after, my old friend. And I'm telling you it's suicide! Don't do this alone, at least let me or her come with you!"_

_The Imperial shook his head sadly, swaying back and forth on his heels. "I'm not about to let two of my closest allies be put in danger. This is one time that I have to ask you to trust me."_

_The Breton smashed his fist against a nearby desk, the echo being heard all across the Cistern. His hand was bleeding, but the pain didn't even register. _

"_How can I trust you?! You're being irresponsible, leaving the guild to fend for itself while you go off on some treasure hunt for something that probably doesn't even exist!"_

"_It does exist, I'm certain of it. Please, I promise I'll return as soon as I'm finished. You won't get rid of me that easily, Mercer! Haha!" _

_Oh how I missed his laughter in my ears, the sound that could light up a whole room of strangers, and nobody would even question it. So why do I feel so guilty about being with him?_

_But my thoughts are erased, and now I stand in the one crypt that I never wanted to go back to ever again. _

"_You know why we're here, Gallus. There's no going back."_

"_Please," my love pleaded, a last-ditch attempt to return the man to normal, "Don't do this. There's still time for redemption. You can return the Key and re-establish the Trinity! Please, friend, are we not one in this?"_

_That golden blade wiping out the last remnants of his life answered that question. Greed and terrible ambition had consumed Mercer Frey, replacing the man who I used to call my partner._

_My screams filled the room of Snow Veil Sanctum, and I was sure that I saw an evil aura encapsulating Mercer as he withdrew his blade._

"_If only you were quicker, Karliah," he sniggered, making my blood boil with utter rage, "then maybe he'd still be alive…_

I awoke with a start, sweat beads pouring down my forehead as I checked my surroundings. Finding nobody in the darkness, I laid my head back down on my pillow and rubbed the few stray tears that had come. Why was this still happening? I'd had time to grieve for almost twenty-six years now, hadn't I? That should've been enough.

But no, all that time had been about surviving, plotting for my revenge one day. I couldn't even give Gallus a proper burial for fear of being caught by one of the guild members. It wasn't until I witnessed the brave actions of Balithus and Brynjolf that I was finally able to be at peace.

Speaking of Brynjolf, I figured that I'd go check up on him to see how he was doing. Last night wasn't the most graceful of movements by any means, with me dropping him down a ladder and all. And if, by any chance, ol' Delvin had any worthwhile jobs available today, that would be a happy coincidence.

Grabbing an apple from my bag and putting my armour on, I slipped out of Nightingale Hall, but not before placing a hand on the little Nocturnal shrine I had constructed (it didn't feel right leaving without doing that).

I slipped the hood over my face, and raced down the hill towards the Riften docks. Figuring that I'd give the guards a break, I remembered that going in through the docks would mean I'd have to use the sewers. I hadn't used that passage since I faced the guild with Balithus, but I needed some Skeever tails for some potions I was creating, and there was no better place for that than the Ratway.

The smell was just as awful as I'd remembered, gagging as soon as I walked inside. How anybody could live down here outside of the Flagon or the Cistern was beyond me. By the time I had reached the door to the Flagon, I held my catch of the day: four Skeever tails ruffled in my bag.

The Flagon seemed a lot less quiet than before, but still not quite at the same level of activity as when Gallus ran the guild. I'm guessing Nocturnal's luck hadn't quite kicked in for this place yet.

I passed by Dirge, who just gave me a stern look and a grunt as I walked by. Not really sure why they still had him as a lookout; the man could barely hold his own in a fight (though don't ever tell him that, or else "his name will be the last thing you hear before he puts you in the ground"). I waved to Tonilia who smiled and waved back, busy in a conversation with Vex. I'd sort of hit it off with Tonilia after the whole misunderstanding surrounding my exile, and she insisted that she'd make me a new set of armour. After all, I'd been wearing my old set for far too long, and the new version seemed to be more advanced.

Vex still hadn't warmed up to me yet, though I was certain she'd come around. Her trust didn't come easily, as Delvin told me. Maybe if we went on a few assignments together, she'd change her attitude.

Ah, speaking of Delvin, there he was, sitting at the bar and talking to Vekel. I couldn't believe that he had mead in his hand at this hour, drinking away without a care in the world.

"Little early for that, don't you think?" I smirked, taking a seat beside the bald Breton. He just chuckled and patted my back in a friendly manner. Delvin had always been one of my favourite people from the guild, with his friendly demeanor and calm attitude. He told me right after the guildmaster ceremony that he'd had doubts about Mercer's story from the beginning, but I assured him there was nothing he could've done.

"Time o' day doesn't really matter anymore when you get to be my age, lass."

"Lass? You're sounding like Brynjolf more every day, you realize that?"

He shrugged and looked back to his bottle. I could tell he was kind of embarrassed about being the drunk one all the time. "I guess the bastard's just rubbed off on me."

"I heard that lad," the red-headed Nightingale called from behind the bar, stepping out into the light of the Flagon, "and it's just a habit of mine. I've been saying that since… well, since I can remember actually! Anyways, did you need me for something? Cynric said it was urgent."

"Yeah, I did... well, actually, the boss needed you, but he's out in the training room with a healer. Said his head's been hurtin' him ever since last night.

That got a snicker from everyone sitting close by. I simply went along with it and rolled my eyes in response. Word travels way too fast around here.

Brynjolf titled his head, puzzled. "What is it he needed me to do, exactly?"

Delvin leaned back in his chair and fiddled around his pocket, pulling out what looked like a guild contract. It was marked with the house symbol of the Black-Briar family, which meant it could only be from Maven herself.

"Apparently, one of Maven Black-Briar's contacts has been skimping out on the payments for her mead lately. Maven started having her goods sold in other provinces, like Cyrrodil and Valenwood, and she would sell the mead for half price to her contact. In exchange, the guy would transport the shipments over by boat and get a quarter of the profits along with it."

"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me," Brynjolf mused.

Delvin nodded and said, "Aye, and things were running smoothly at first. A few bandit raids, but nothing too serious. But then, all of a sudden, Maven starts getting these notices that her shipments aren't turning up, and that she owes these people buckets of money for the goods not showing. When she questioned the supplier, there was no response."

"Sounds a lot like Goldenglow Estate, doesn't it?" Balithus asked, walking into the Flagon and smirking at me. "Are you sure it wasn't you this time, Karliah?"

"Piss off, will ya?" I replied, putting a fake angry face that immediately sent the guild into an uproarious laughter. "Don't you have some giants to kill or something?"

"Not this time, and I wanted to apologize to everyone for not being here as often as I should. I guess I still need to get my priorities straight."

"You might wanna be quick about it then, boss. Brynjolf can't handle anymore paperwork!" Vex replied with a smirk.

I loved days like these, when all the guild would come into the Flagon and act like total goofballs, though it was kind of weird now, coming from a room full of people that I hardly recognized anymore. Nocturnal preserve me, I'm starting to sound like a broken record now, aren't I?

"Hellooooo? Karliah, are you there?"

Brynjolf's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I immediately wanted to use Nocturnal's invisibility power to get away from all the staring faces. Instead, I stood up, and proceeded past Balithus into the Cistern for some lockpicking practice. I'm pretty sure someone said, "Boy, is she quiet or what?", but it didn't bother me. That was just how I was.

I plopped a squat right next to an ornate-looking chest, with a lock that was nearly impossible to open for even the most skilled thieves. Even Vex had some problems with this thing for crying out loud, and she was the best infiltrator the guild had! But I wasn't known for giving up so easily, and it felt good to get back to thieving once again. I lived for the thrill and excitement of it. There was just something about picking someone's pocket, or breaking into a restricted area, or even planting contraband in an unsuspecting Thalmor's pocket that sent an adrenaline rush through my Dunmer veins. I guess it was just knowing that you could get caught and put in jail or worse that kept me going. After all, what was the point of living if you couldn't do so a little dangerously?

Snapping my third lockpick, I remembered how frustrated I used to get when I first joined the guild all those years ago. Gallus had been so patient with me, and he taught me just about everything I knew about thieving. But thinking about him now just stung. The pain of losing him had dulled as the years went on in my exile, but after seeing him in the Sepulchre, all those pent-up emotions just came flooding back.

I shouted (as loud as I would normally, which really wasn't more than a normal conversation) in triumph as I finally found the correct lock position.

"You really haven't gotten rusty at all, eh lass?"

Startled, I looked over to the door to find Brynjolf leaning against the doorframe, that same smug look on his face as he always had. Why did he always have to be so happy?

"How long have you been there, Bryn?" I asked, looking around inside the chest. I wasn't terribly interested in the ebony sword, since I was an archer first and foremost. Instead, I tossed the weapon over to Brynjolf and scrimmaged around for about 150 septims, a couple of healing potions and a handful of lockpicks. Not too shabby for a five minute struggle.

"Long enough to see that the legends are true." At my raised eyebrow, Brynjolf shifted to test the blade out on one of the training dummies and continued.

"That you're sharp as they come and as stealthy as Nocturnal herself," he said, smacking away with a speed and ferocity that would leave a bandit wondering what just happened.

I shook my head in protest. "You should know better than anyone to not believe everything you hear."

"Yeah? That's what they said about the Nightingales, too."

Damn.

"So how are you feeling now, anyway? I kind of gave you a nasty fall last night," I winced, remembering just how much of a drop it is from the Cistern to the secret entrance.

Brynjolf just laughed as if telling me not to worry about it. "I honestly don't even remember any of it," he confessed, "just that I was sitting in my bed this morning."

"That's good. I didn't want to be responsible for injuring two high-ranking guild officials so soon after joining."

"Lass," he started, catching his breath and turning to face me, "if anything, you should be second, or possibly even guildmaster. 'cause I know for a fact that the wood elf doesn't know what he's doing with all this responsibility, not to mention that he doesn't really want it. Why do you think he goes out to save the world from a cave bear every chance he gets? It's not that he's neglecting anything, but he never had the same larceny skills as you."

"Brynjolf, I could never do it. I'm about as good at leadership as Delvin is at holding his liquor!"

We both chuckled at that. He knew I was right, in a way. Maybe once upon a time I could be qualified, but not anymore. I was too distant.

"Well," the Nord started, "if you won't listen to me about the guildmaster garbage, then you can at least come with me on the job."

I was confused. Wasn't this a one-man job? Why would he need two… unless…

"Are you in some sort of danger, friend?" I asked, concerned for his well-being.

He shifted uncomfortably once again, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Not sure, but the bastard contact was a good friend of Mercer's, and word is that he was going to help him escape into Cyrrodil on one of his cargo ships out of Windhelm. I figured if I had some backup…"

"Say no more, Bryn. When do we leave?"

"I was thinking in two hours. Is that good with you?" At my nod, he smirked and patted my shoulder as he walked out. I realized that he must've been really nervous about this guy if he had to take another Nightingale with him. But I couldn't help but feel as though Brynjolf wasn't telling me something about this. Call me mad, but I don't think this contact was the only thing he was worried about.

Shadows preserve us, I hoped I wouldn't have to find out.


	3. Off to Windhelm

Doing a guild mission is almost like breathing to me. It just feels so right, like thieving was something that I was born to do. So when Brynjolf explained to me that we'd be breaking into the guy's house, my excitement soared. I swear I felt like a child once again.

As Brynjolf and I set off on our horses and made our way to Windhelm, however, I actually kind of regretted not taking the Nightingale armour. But, like always, I had to remind myself that we weren't in Riften anymore; the citizens of Windhelm didn't take too kindly to thieves patrolling their town. Especially ones with the Daedric powers of night and shadow.

Finding your way through the mountain paths outside of Riften wasn't an easy feat. Three separate times we had to stop and turn around to avoid getting lost in the winding trails ("You'd think I'd know this place backwards by now," joked Brynjolf). I'll admit, I wasn't the greatest travelling companion, frequently muttering things in Dunmeris about us getting lost that poor Brynjolf had no clue about. But once we got rolling and saw the swamp-like areas, we knew we would reach Windhelm within a day.

"So…" Brynjolf started, trying to break the silence, "you don't need to answer if you don't want, Karliah, but what did you do all those years? I mean, I was just a little tyke when you left, so I didn't really have an idea as to why "Karlie" was gone…"

I smiled at the old nickname. I remembered Brynjolf getting my name wrong the first time he tried, and it never changed. "Karlie" would look after the little red-head for times when Delvin or Gallus couldn't, and we got along pretty well.

"I existed."

There was a slight pause, before Brynjolf questioned, "Umm… that's it? Nothing else?"

"I couldn't go into the cities or villages, couldn't ask anybody for help for fear of being captured, and had to cover my tracks everywhere I went so that Mercer would never catch me. So, I fended for myself in the woods."

"Did you ever leave the Rift? Or go outside of Skyrim?" he asked, bringing his horse up near mine.

I shook my head sadly. "There was no reason to leave Skyrim. I didn't have any family left in Morrowind that I really cared for, and trying to cross the border in my condition would give me away immediately as a fugitive,"

Pausing before I talked about the other parts of Skyrim, I sighed as I remembered some of the close calls I had with town guards and the Dark Brotherhood themselves. "For a long while I remained close to Riften, just to catch any wind that my name may have been cleared. After that went to Oblivion, I had my plan for revenge set out. I confronted Aringoth about Goldenglow Estate, then stole a horse and rode that beast across the province, end to end."

Brynjolf whistled in astonishment. "That must've been quite the journey, lass."

I chuckled slightly. "You should've seen the horse," I responded, "I think he should've been given a free trip to Sovngarde for all the hard work. Anyways, I stopped outside of Solitude and started negotiating with that idiotic Gollum-Ei. I stopped along the way to the Honningbrew Meadery as well for that whole incident. You know the rest."

A cold breeze ripped through the air, startling the horse as he kicked back. But clearly this wasn't just about the wind, as I could hear a shrill hiss and see the tail of an ice wraith having crossed our path. I notched an arrow into my bow and reached back to fire, but the wraith bit into the front of my horse and knocked back, sending me flying off the steed.

It was cruel fate that caused me to land on a little rock formation on the side of the road, and painfully I opened my eyes to see a pack of vampires joining the fray, slowly sucking the life out of the horse as the ice wraith tried to look for another victim. _'Great, bloody brilliant, even,' _I cursed through pained breath, wondering how in Oblivion this had happened. We couldn't have stood out at all (after all, we were a couple of master thieves), so the only explanation was that they somehow smelled our approach.

But I had more important things to attend to than worry about our scent. "Brynjolf!" I shouted, scared to death that the hungrier-looking vampire was going to latch itself onto his neck. "Run, boy! Get out of here now!"

"Not on your life, lass!" He pulled out his trusty glass dagger, plus the ebony sword I had given him earlier (now enchanted with what appeared to be fire and lightning) and started going to town on our enemies. I saw his dual blades slash left and right, tearing through the vampire armour and knocking the blood-sucker over before jabbing the enchanted blade into its neck, snuffing out the last parts of life.

His victory was short-lived, however, as a Bosmer vampire started sneaking up from behind Brynjolf.

"Look out! Bryn, behind you!" I screamed, but to no avail. By the time he heard me, the beast had sunk its teeth into Brynjolf's arm, since the armour had been ripped off of that spot during the scuffle. I could only watch helplessly as the man grunted in pain before the Bosmer's other friend shot an arrow straight into his knee. Why did the gods need to be so bloody ironic right now?

Crying out bloody murder, I quickly forgot the pain and grabbed my Daedric bow from the ground beside the now-dead horse (Balithus had it forged for me as a gift for giving him the Nightingale bow). With lightning speed I tore through the remaining foes; ebony arrows protruding from their chests as they fell into a hobbled ball onto the snowy earth below them. I threw the stupid Bosmer off of my fallen companion, who through all the aggravating pain still managed to smirk at me.

"Do I get to have bat wings and fly around now, lass?" he asked jokingly.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, friend. But I swear on the Sepulchre itself I won't let you turn. I promise," I managed to choke out, tears welling up in my eyes as I held the scared little boy in my arms once again.

The ice wraith we'd encountered earlier was destroyed; its powder lying in a heap on the ground near the wreckage. I took one look at my horse and cringed. It was like something out of a horror story, with its eyes bulging and a huge gaping wound in its neck and stomach. _'Be at peace, my friend. You're with Nocturnal now…' _I spoke in Dunmeris, wanting to be as respectful as possible as I pulled my pack off of the horse.

Inside it contained various potions that would be useful for this situation, but Brynjolf was paling fast. It seemed that the cold conditions we were in just heightened the disease's effect, with his body shivering and his breath becoming more forced. I wrapped him in one of the blankets, and apologised for the awful taste as I made him drink one of my cure disease potions. It tasted awful, but hopefully it would do the job.

"You need to rest, Bryn. Let the potion do its work – you'll be good as new in no time." I ordered calmly, leaving no room for argument. The boy (err, I mean man – gods, it was so difficult to picture him as anything but a little tyke) nodded and rolled over in the blanket compliantly. Praying to whoever was listening for success, I squeezed the Nord's hand once tightly and went to build a fire. Out on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly the best spot to camp, but we didn't exactly have a lot of options.

_Later that night…_

The howls of wolves echoed across the hills, warning to others that they were dangerous. Perhaps they could be in a pack, but if you were smart it was pretty easy to eliminate them. Sneaking and shooting was my specialty, and I often enjoyed climbing up a tree and sniping them from a distance.

In fact, that's just what I did. The wolf pelt that I had placed around Brynjolf's shoulders after he fell asleep proved that. It wasn't particularly hard to spot the fella, especially from the tree. He didn't even hear the arrow as it pierced through his body, and I had rushed over to its side as soon as I was sure he didn't have any buddies to come for revenge. It was elven tradition (at least I think it was) to thank your fallen game for giving up its life for the hunter, so once again I prayed for an animal in Dunmeris. When the day came that I would fall, either to old age, sickness or battle injury, I would return the favour, and my body would return to Nirn just like the wolf.

But anyways, back to Brynjolf. The colour had slowly started to return to his face, and his breathing had become steady once again. I was so relieved, as I had no intention of losing any more of my closest friends. I don't think I could take the guilt all over again.

Squinting to adjust his sight for the warm glow of the fire, Brynjolf stretched his arms up and gave me a small wave. I returned the gesture with a warm smile and a nod, grateful that he was back on his feet.

"So, did I miss anything?" he asked with a goofy-looking grin. I simply threw a snowball at his arm and chuckled.

"You're completely mad, you know that?"

"You aren't the only one who thinks so, I can tell you that," he mused, taking a seat across from my position. "But it's good to be back, lass. Thank you,"

"Don't get all sentimental on me now. Anybody would've done the same… at least, anyone from the guild."

Brynjolf just stared into the glow. Sometimes I wondered what it'd be like to be a Nord instead of a Dunmer, and what went through their minds. Their race was very different from ours, but it was similar in many ways as well. We both held honour and companionship in high regard, and we would risk our lives to protect what was ours. So why was it that if Brynjolf and I could get along so well, then why did the people of Windhelm have such disdain for my kind?

"Karliah?"

I looked up to meet his gaze, which looked downcast and almost… regretful?

"For the record, I'm sorry… so damn sorry…"

"What in Azura's name are you apologising for? If anything I should be apologising for dropping you down the hole the other day-"

"About that story you were telling me earlier," he began, and I could tell this had been bugging him for a while, "nobody should have to go through all that. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, lass. We all took Mercer's word without even questioning him. We hung you out to dry and made you out to be the worst kind of traitor imaginable."

"Brynjolf, for the last time, it wasn't your fault! It was Mercer, and Mercer alone. There was nothing that could've been done, but it's finished now. Besides, you were, what, five years old at the time for crying out loud!" I couldn't stand all the sympathies I'd received over the last few months. Not only were they exhausting, but I just wanted everything to return to normal so badly. Plus, how would anyone take me seriously if they were too busy feeling sorry for me?

A slight laughter escaped Brynjolf's lips and for a second I wondered what he was on about. "Did I ever tell you what that bastard told me after you were gone?"

I shook my head no. In fact, I had no idea what Mercer actually told everyone after I fled from Snowveil. I merely speculated.

He shook his head and sank his dagger into the dirt. "He said, _"Bryn, I'm sorry to have to tell you this kid, but your Aunt Karlie had to leave. She did a very bad thing, and now she has to pay the consequences," _When I asked him what you did, he wouldn't give me a straight answer. He just kept going on about how you and Gallus weren't going to be around anymore. I remember him getting really pissed off whenever I asked him about you, but I kept asking just for a hint as to what you might have done. Finally, when I was around ten years old, he'd gotten so angry that he dumped me into the cistern pool and screamed out something I never forgot."

His brow furrowed intensely as he chucked an amulet Mercer had given him into the flames, resulting in a loud hiss with sparks flying up into the night sky.

"He screamed, _"You wanna know so badly, Brynjolf?! Well here it is: that fuckin' grey-skinned bitch murdered Gallus and dumped his body into Snow Veil Sanctum! And no, you're never going to see her again so QUIT ASKING ME ABOUT IT!" _Everyone just stood around the pool and let their jaws hit the floor. Nobody said a word, but Mercer just brushed past Delvin and tossed his dagger at his desk. Delvin walked over and pulled me out of the water, and I promised myself that I'd never ask him about you ever again."

I couldn't believe it. He truly despised me after all that. But still, even though I plotted my revenge against him for all that time, I still wanted to believe there was still good left in my fallen guild sibling. At one point, I even considered him a friend. But corruption and greed can do some messed up things, especially when you're dealing with the Daedric princes themselves.

"He wasn't always like that, you know." I replied casually, the rage that I felt at one time replaced by a slight sadness and regret that it had come to all this.

Expecting the shock and horrified expression Brynjolf was giving, I let him rant for a little while. "So let me get this straight," he began, his fist clenching around his glass dagger. "The man murdered Gallus, framed you, exiled you, had you hunted down for twenty-five years, stole the Key, stole from the Guild and tried to kill you again. Now tell me lass – why the hell are you defending him?"

Digging a little hole in the dirt with my boot, I looked towards the stars, and for a second I thought I saw Gallus' face within the constellations. It wouldn't surprise me to be honest, as he was already one with the shadows – would it be going too far to believe he could also be a part of the cosmos as well?

"I've had all the time in the world to think about it, Bryn," I started, not taking my eyes off the skies, "and I've come to realize that I should've tried to help Mercer all those years ago. I had seen what Nocturnal's gifts were doing to him; how the Key's unlimitless power was corrupting his very soul. I dare say the thief even liked me at one point. But I ignored it – all the signs of what our trinity was doing to him, and how the love Gallus and I shared was only adding fuel to the fire. Don't misunderstand, Brynjolf. I can't ever forgive him for what he did. But I'd rather go on in this life remembering the great man that he once was, instead of the evil one he'd become."

Now, it was difficult for me to give a speech about anything (let alone one that could convince a person), but I daresay that Brynjolf was speechless after that. I don't think I've ever seen him at a loss for words – my guess was that it was a lot to sink in. Going from Karliah the traitor, to Mercer the traitor, and now this? Nocturnal's mercy. I was starting to get a headache myself.

After that night, we packed up our things and spent the rest of the day finishing our trek to Windhelm. This place was filled with hatred and prejudice – you could practically feel it coming off the walls if you concentrated long enough. Thankfully though, we didn't actually need to go inside the city this time. We were going to go down to the docks to find any info we could on Maven's contact.

"Shahvee!" I greeted, hugging my long-time Argonian friend from behind. She gasped in surprise, and then studied my face for a moment. Her happy expression seemed to glow about her as she recognized me.

"I'd know that pretty face anywhere! Aha! My goodness, it's been far too long, Karliah!" she exclaimed, rubbing the side of my face with her scaly hand like she used to.

"Indeed it has," I admitted, realizing I hadn't seen her since she helped smuggle me into the Argonian Assemblage for a little while during my exile. "Shahvee, I'd like you to meet my friend here, Brynjolf."

"Pleasure to meet you, lass," he bowed his head in a greeting, and Shahvee had a puzzled look on her face.

"You as well, sir. Although it's very unexpected that a Dunmer and a Nord are such good friends, especially in these times. You don't seem to be like most of your brethren in the city, either."

"Aye, I've got about as much in common with them as I do a Horker. As for your first observation, we're both a part of the Thieves G-"

"Yes, I know dear. My family and I could see that from the moment you arrived," she gestured over to the other Argonians, who either nodded as a welcoming gesture or just went about their business. "And anyways, any friend of Karliah's is a friend of mine. Now, what can I do for you two?"

And so Brynjolf went on explaining the situation, all the while making sure there weren't any guards around to listen in on their conversation. I had to admire the boy sometimes. Delvin must have taught him well.

By the time he finished explaining, Shahvee had begun mulling everything over, trying to figure out who had been shipping off Black-Briar Mead over the last few weeks. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and her face went pale, and she looked to me with a warning look.

"Are you sure you want this, Karliah? These men you're dealing with… they're not just bandits. Most of them are trained killers; pirates that'll kill first, ask questions later. I cannot guarantee your safety, friend."

"We have to try, Shahvee," I reasoned, Nocturnal's energy surging through me, "for the good of the guild, we have to get this done."


	4. Tricks

That night, the Argonians from the Windhelm docks had been kind enough to allow us to sleep in their Assemblage. Well, really we didn't have much of a choice. Shahvee practically threw us in there, insisting that we rest up before our assignment truly began. Brynjolf, Shahvee, Scouts Many-Marshes and I sat around the fire pit that night and discussed what was to be done.

"The man you are looking for… I only needed to see him once to know what kind of person he is," Scouts began, warming his hands up against the flames like the rest of us. "He calls himself Lotus, I think. He looked extremely shady, like there was something he was hiding…"

"Don't we all look that way?" Brynjolf interjected, getting a nod from Scouts.

"Ha ha, indeed, friend! Indeed! But this was… something else. I can't quite describe it, but I believe this goes even beyond mere thievery. He was never alone, either. Wherever he went, Lotus had to have at least two of his guards with him at all times."

"Did the Windhelm guards ever question him on the docks?" I asked.

Scouts shook his head with a look of disdain. "No, not at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure some of the guards were collaborating with him. I think even Ulfric himself had come out to show his support."

I could practically feel my skin crawl at that name, and I noticed Brynjolf wasn't looking too impressed either. None of the thieves guild really cared about the civil war that was occurring (heck, even Balithus thought the whole affair was stupid, and he was a part-time Legion soldier), but most of us couldn't stand Ulfric Stormcloak. Not only did we think that the man just held lust for the throne, but his hatred of my kind didn't earn him any favours.

Besides, it was much more profitable for us to steal from the Legion than from the Stormcloaks.

"So what are you suggesting then? That we try to get information from Ulfric himself? He'll skin us alive if he realizes we're thieves!" Brynjolf explained.

Scouts and Shahvee both shrugged their shoulders, not seeing any other option. However, it only took me a few seconds to think up of a plan that just might do the trick.

"What if instead of asking Ulfric directly," I started, staring into the eyes of my companions, "we walk straight into Windhelm, sneak our way into the Palace of the Kings, and look around for recent shipment activities? There has to be a ledger or something in there,"

Scouts looked skeptical of my plan, as was to be expected. "You think they'll allow the two of you into the palace? No offence Karliah, but I doubt very much he'd let a Dunmer into that place without cutting your head off first."

"Not if I'm going in with a Stormcloak escorting me,"

Brynjolf quickly shook his head and tried to talk me out of it, but I was adamant. "Bryn, this'll work. I know it will."

"That may be so lass, but the last time the Guild tried a prisoner getup, Vipir ended up in jail for a solid two months before he was let go."

"Besides," Scouts started, "where are you going to get a set of Stormcloak armor for him? Isn't killing a guard not your guild's style?"

A smirk crossed my face as I turned to face Brynjolf, who just chuckled and put a hand to his forehead, knowing exactly what we were going to do.

"We won't have to," I explained, grabbing my bag and sliding it across my shoulders. "Shahvee, Scouts, thank you again for the hospitality. Shadows preserve you."

"Shadows preserve us all…" Brynjolf mused, bowing as a form of thanks.

As I reached the door handle, Shahvee's scaly hand grabbed hold of my shoulder. She hugged me tightly from behind and turned me around to face her frightened expression.

"Come back to us safely, Karliah. We don't want to lose you again."

It was too dark to see, but my face slightly fell after that comment. Had I really touched this many people? I couldn't have! I had been nothing but a runaway and a thief for a good chunk of my life, with nothing but the shadows and my Lady to comfort me. Maybe I just didn't give people enough credit.

I nodded, opened the door and stepped out into the darkness with Brynjolf by my side. Within seconds we were completely out of sight.

We two thieves got into a running pattern: sprint to cover, hide, wait until the coast was clear, and then repeat at the next cover. It wasn't likely that anybody would've seen us at this time anyway, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"So what's the plan, lass?" Brynjolf whispered, trying to get a better view of some of the guards near the stables. There were two of them holding torches, talking to each other and probably off duty. Trying to sneak up behind them wasn't going to work, since their position on the wall would allow them to spot us almost instantly. We needed to get them to split up somehow.

Without making a sound, I picked up a rock and carefully threw it near them. Unfortunately, I forgot that we weren't in Riften anymore, so the snow drowned out the sound entirely, and the guards hadn't noticed a thing.

"Let me try," Brynjolf suggested, grabbing another rock and chucking it across the way.

"_Oww! What the?!_"

I grabbed Brynjolf's wrist and turned back behind a rock before they could see us. "You weren't supposed to chuck it _at _the guard, moron!"

Brynjolf just chuckled heartily and replied, "Well yeah, but I think that's just the distraction we need. Come on, time for phase two."

Moving quickly, we spotted one of the guards with his iron war axe out in a ready position, searching for any sign of movement. The two of us wouldn't allow that to happen. Signalling where he should go, we split up and made our way closer to the guard. Fooling this man wouldn't be too difficult I assumed, as most of the guards I had encountered across Skyrim were either too naïve or too stupid to recognize me as a threat.

"Evening, officer," I approached, casually walking over to him seemingly out of nowhere.

He did not look amused. "Halt, dark elf!" he yelled, pointing his axe menacingly in my direction, "nobody's going inside the gates until we've caught the hooligans out here. You haven't seen anything out of the ordinary out here have you?"

I pretended to be thinking, raising my hand to my chin and looking slightly puzzled. I had nearly perfected the innocent little girl technique over the years – it was a skill that had saved me on heists innumerable times in the past.

"Can't say that I have, sorry."

"Figures," the guard spat, "no use asking a grey skin who couldn't find her sword if it were sitting in her hands. I don't know why your kind doesn't just go back to Morrowind where your stinking race belongs…"

Out of the shadows suddenly came Brynjolf, who must have pinched a nerve on the guard's neck, because the next moment he was lying face first in the snow, unconscious.

"Don't you ever get tired of them calling you that?" Brynjolf asked as he proceeded to take off the Stormcloak armour and put it over top of his own clothes.

I shrugged my shoulders, as there really wasn't much to be said. As Shahvee once told me, "the only things colder than Skyrim are the Nords themselves," so I just tried my best to ignore the insults.

"What are we going to do with our friend here?" I asked, realizing that leaving him out here would almost certainly mean his death. Brynjolf pondered for a moment, but then he got a wicked grin on his face, which usually meant he was up to no good.

He hauled the guard up onto his shoulder and walked over to a carriage driver, me following behind him. This was gonna be good.

"Evening my good man! My friend here somehow got all the way to Windhelm, and I'd like you to return him to Markarth if you'd be so kind."

The carriage driver looked behind him to see the man passed out in the seat. "Why's he sleeping? Shouldn't he be telling me where to go?"

I suppressed a giggle with my sleeve, and faked it as a cough when the driver glanced over to me. Brynjolf was a master of speech without a doubt, and he was able to keep up the charade.

"He's a bit under the weather, I'm afraid. Too many pints of mead at the inn. His family has been worried sick, so I'm sure 200 septims will cover the trip?" Brynjolf tossed a bag of coins over to the driver, who just nodded and got his horse moving, with the guard falling to the floor of the carriage when they hit a bump in the road.

Brynjolf gave me a cheeky grin and started walking back to the gate, addressing the other guard about how he was bringing in a refugee to the prisons.

"She's been a very cooperative prisoner, I must say. Perhaps she'll be let off with a warning, and I've seen no need to trap the lass in bonds," Brynjolf explained when the guard asked why I wasn't tied up.

"Well, just to be safe, turn around," the guard commanded, and I did what I was told. He tied the ropes tightly, slightly cutting off the circulation in my wrists. Thankfully, this would only be temporary.

As we approached the massive gates of Windhelm, I couldn't believe our luck so far. Nocturnal was definitely with us today.

Or so I thought.


	5. Heist

Is it possible to be awe-struck and absolutely disgusted at the same time? Because that's exactly how I felt after walking through the streets of Windhelm, looking at all the old, majestic stone workmanship around me, but then seeing the residents who lived here.

The Grey Quarter was a travesty. Ulfric Stormcloak had shoved all the Dunmer into a corner and left them to rot. For a so-called "fighter of the people", he certainly didn't share the same love for my kind as he did for the Nords. But none of that mattered right now, as Brynjolf and I had a job to do.

"Just follow my lead," Brynjolf whispered to me, knowing fully well that none of this was going to be pretty.

"Please don't get us arrested, Bryn. The prisons are absolutely horrible down here."

"You've been arrested before?" Brynjolf asked, surprised as he pulled out a steel sword to make it look like he was escorting me inside.

I shook my head. "Busted somebody out of here once, a long time ago. Let's just say there are some things that are far worse than being killed by a dragon…"

My fellow Nightingale opened the doors to the Palace of the Kings, and the two of us shivered as we stepped inside. Somehow the air around us felt… cold. The whole bloody place just screamed hostile territory, and the long hallway to Ulfric's throne seemed like an eternity to walk down. Various pictures of past jarls adorned the walls, all of them looking prestigious and self-righteous. This place sickened me.

Ulfric's lapdog, Galmar Stone-Fist, stared at us with a stern expression as we approached. I'm pretty sure he was sizing us up as we would a person in the guild would do. He immediately told us to halt and threw a questioning glare in my direction. _'Keep calm, Karliah. You've been through far worse than this pig-headed fool…'_

"State your business here, soldier," Galmar ordered, folding his arms over his chest. I almost forgot that Brynjolf was in a disguise.

He poked my arm with the butt-end of his blade and replied, "Aye lad – I mean sir, sorry – I caught this woman smuggling some goods over to a pack of Imperial sympathizers. It's not a serious crime mind you, but I felt that a good interrogation in one of the chambers upstairs would at least give us some insight,"

"Sympathizing is more than a minor crime, soldier! Ulfric, we can't let this act go unpunished," Galmar urged, his glare now seriously starting to get on my nerves.

Ulfric raised his hand to stop him from continuing. "Patience, my friend," he stated calmly, "let him see what he can get from her. Perhaps she'll have some valuable information we could use. What's your name, soldier?"

"Brynjolf, sir."

The banner of the bear behind his head seemed to closely resemble the man sitting on the throne at that moment.

Ulfric stepped down to our level and nodded to my companion. "Very well then. Brynjolf, I trust that you'll do us all proud, come back and I shall reward you for your efforts."

"That'd be a great honour milord, but I'm afraid that duty calls. I'll have to take a rain check on that whole reward thing."

Before we got to the door that led upstairs, Galmar roared (I'm serious – roared) after us. "How dare you disrespect your future high king in such a way?! You dare to deny this tremendous honour that he has bestowed upon you?!"

Brynjolf glanced at me, turned back around to face Galmar, and gave him the cheekiest salute I've ever seen. Ulfric had to hold his right-hand man back just to prevent him from coming after us. Behind the door, I heard Ulfric mutter, "For crying out loud, brother, you're going to get us both killed one of these days!"

Quickly, we bounded up the stairs and made our way to the jarl's quarters, without making as much as a sound. I got to work on a strongbox stored near the side of his bed, as Brynjolf stared in wonder at a peculiar pink stone sitting on a shelf not too far.

"It's a stone of Barenziah," I commented, looking back to my lockpick as I spoke, "Balithus had been collecting a whole bunch of them after Vex told him what they were worth. Of course, we'll need the whole set plus the crown in order for the guild to turn a profit."

"Aye lass, it's just pretty marvelous to behold is all. But anyway, enough of that. So what is it we're looking for exactly?"

I murmured a praise to Nocturnal as I heard the click of the lock, indicating my success. "Anything that tells us who's been running the shipping out here," I stated, pulling out at least sixty septims as well as various other jewels, "There's gotta be a record book or something. Check on his desk over there."

Brynjolf did as commanded, and threw off the Stormcloak helmet to reveal his red-headed features once again. It didn't suit him, being a Stormcloak, and I could tell that he hadn't enjoyed the whole ordeal. While he searched for clues, I started relieving Ulfric of more of his valuables. The bastard must have had hundreds of riches hidden within his room alone, not to mention everywhere else in the castle. But even though I despised the man, I reminded myself who I was, and only took enough for the guild to get by.

"Aha!" Brynjolf shouted suddenly, holding up the parchment that we needed.

"What's it say?" I asked inquisitively, getting slightly nervous as I started to hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

It seemed that Nocturnal's luck had rubbed off on us so far, as almost everything we did had gone off without a hitch at this point. However, the longer we waited, the more likely we were to be caught.

"By the gods… this isn't good," Brynjolf said suddenly, piquing my interest, "It says that Ulfric collaborated with the shipping captain and split the payment on the deals that went out to Cyrrodil. He threw Maven out of the deal, sold the last of her Black-Briar mead and then started selling Skooma instead. Ulfric forced the Dunmer at the inn to start making the stuff or else he'd throw them all out or get them all killed."

"Who's the supplier, Brynjolf? We're running out of time."

The man looked shocked as he told me who our mysterious culprit was. "Sibbi Black-Briar…"

That actually made a little bit of sense, now that I thought about it. "Maven had her son put in jail a little while ago, didn't he? He must have been out for revenge – trying to cut into her profits just like I did."

"Aye, but there's more…"

"I don't think you'll be alive long enough to hear those words, I'm afraid."

Brynjolf and I both froze, neither of us bothering to look in order to see who it was. Ulfric was standing in the doorway with Galmar and at least fifteen of his guardsmen, all poised to take our heads off at his command. I needed to find an escape route, but so far our options were extremely limited.

"Umm… and that concludes our interrogation. Thank you for your cooperation, prisoner. You may go now."

"Give it up, Bryn," I sighed, raising my hands in the air in surrender (or at least, pretend surrender).

Galmar stepped forward and pointed his blade right by my cheek, blood slowly dripping down his blade as he cut into my skin a little bit. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you thieves where you stand!"

I gave him a little pouty face and complained, "Aww, but where's the fun in that? After all, you wouldn't want it to get out that you let two thieves slip right under your fingers now, would you? I don't know about you, but that would make you seem pretty stupid."

Galmar screamed in rage and drew his blade up high, preparing to strike me down with the fury of his cute little bear on top of his head.

Fortunately, Brynjolf's agent of subterfuge power kicked in at just the right time.

I could tell that Galmar had absolutely no control over his actions, as he swung his blade around and accidentally cut into one of the guards. That was all the time we needed. Racing to the window, I smashed Brynjolf's Stormcloak helmet into it, sending pieces of glass hurtling down into the frozen waters below.

"Well gentlemen, it's been fun. But we really must be going now," Brynjolf mocked, and we dove out the window and into the water, expertly dodging the arrows that followed our escape. The burning cold stung my skin as I swam forward, and I only prayed that Brynjolf had the same luck that I was having. Thankfully, my prayers were answered, as we both arose to the surface near the shoreline and ran like crazy back to our horses. The wind was whipping against me now, biting into my body like an ice wraith. The chill seeped down into my very bones, making me shiver uncontrollably.

I don't think we've ever pushed our steeds that hard in our lives, crossing all the way from Windhelm and not stopping until we made it all the way back to Riften. Luckily for us, the guards were well used to Thieves Guild activity, and didn't really have any qualms about us bringing in a sack load of gold back to our hideout.

"You know, technically we didn't completely butcher that job," Brynjolf mentioned as he pressed the button on the old tombstone.

I smirked and rubbed my hair out of my face. "How so?"

"Well for starters," Brynjolf continued, leading us down into the depths of the cistern, "we didn't die, we got what we came for and we brought in enough valuables to buy everyone a few rounds of mead. I'd consider it a success."

"Whatever you say, Bryn. You've got to teach me how to smooth-talk your way out of trouble like that sometime."

"Indeed, but right now isn't the time. We need to celebrate!" The cistern erupted into cheers and laughs as we strolled through, hands and arms full of riches from another exciting heist. Delvin patted us both on the back and took Brynjolf into the Flagon, who were then followed by almost everyone else. I stayed behind and started to warm myself up by the fire pit. Unfortunately I could tell right away that I would have a cold for at least a few days, possibly taking me out of commission for a while.

The peace and quiet was pretty comforting right now. As much as I loved being around my guildmates again instead of out in the wilderness plotting for vengeance, I did miss having the privacy sometimes. That was partly why I enjoyed living in Nightingale Hall so much. It gave me some time to myself, to my thoughts and feelings.

"I'm not interrupting am I?"

I turned around to find our guild master, Balithus, standing behind me with a grin and his hands behind his back, and I shook my head and patted the seat across from me. He obliged and sat down, throwing off his hood and warming his hands up to the flames.

"Pulled off another robbery I see. Well done, Karliah. I believe that makes it, what, forty five in a row now or something?"

My chuckle was low and barely audible, but he could hear it. "Everyone exaggerates my abilities, I'm afraid. I've mucked up more than I'd care to count."

Balithus scoffed and waved off any attempt I made to argue. "Please my friend, you've got the thieving skills of all of us put together. I think the guild owes most of its success to your heists alone."

"And you're the Dragonborn."

I couldn't help it, the words just came spluttering out, and I could tell that Balithus felt slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's fine. It's just… difficult to swallow sometimes. I've got this enormous responsibility on my shoulders even though Alduin is dead, and still whenever I'm robbing a person blind they just gape in awe about their great "hero of Skyrim" instead of calling the guards."

I stared into the warm glow of the fire and took a sip of mead that I'd found lying on the table. Difficult though it may have been, I found it harder still to understand why our guild master hated it so much. "Isn't it a blessing though? You can shout bandits off the face of the earth, and you can even breathe fire! Not so many mortals can say the same."

Balithus sat back in his chair and sighed heavily, rubbing his temples together. "I think it's more of a curse than a blessing, to be honest with you. But enough about me, I wanted to ask you about the job."

The Bosmer pulled out the parchment that Brynjolf had given to him just as we had arrived, and I told him all that I knew – about Sibbi, the Skooma, Ulfric's involvement, everything. The last question he asked intrigued me though.

"It says something here about eliminating the threat, and finding the lost relics of Labyrinthian…" he began, worry etched in his voice. "Any idea what that could mean?"

"Not a bit, but I'm guessing you'll want to find out?" I already knew the answer, as I saw a glint in his eye and a determined look on his elven face, indicating that he was ready for an adventure. He went to stand up, but I stopped him for a moment before I'd forget to ask him entirely.

"Balithus? Would it be alright if you and Brynjolf came with me to the hall tomorrow night?"

Realization dawned on his face, as he knew exactly what I was planning to do.

"It's the anniversary tomorrow, isn't it?"

I nodded, a slight frown forming on my features. I'd started a sort of tradition after the whole ordeal where I'd go and pay my respects to the love of my life, and even though Gallus's tomb was located just outside the guild, we Nightingales did something slightly different.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Tomorrow, then." With that, Balithus gave me one last smile as he too entered the Flagon, beckoning for me to follow.

Having a drink might have been just what I needed right now.


End file.
